To Deal With Death
by AbsentAngel
Summary: Gently, he laid the roses down next to each headstone. His fingers lingering to trace the flowing letters that spelled out the names of the deceased. ‘Sister Helen.’ and ‘Father Maxwell’ There was no departing farewell, no sweet words. Just names.


To Deal With Death

It rained lightly. The slow drizzle being neither cold or warm, but the mediocre temperature that the colonies had always made sure it was. The only nuisance it made was for unprepared people who got wet. Though one could say that was the victims fault for not watching the weather forecast.

Though for Duo Maxwell, the weather was unheeded as he stared down at what he came for. Two freshly picked red roses in his left hand. One for each grave . . .

He kneeled down into the wet synthetic dirt, the uncharacteristic grimace etched into his young features. Gently, he laid the roses down next to each headstone. His fingers lingering to trace the flowing letters that spelled out the names of the deceased.

Sister Helen.' and Father Maxwell'

There was no departing farewell, no sweet words. Just names. Names that are engraved into his soul even deeper than the meaningless letters scrawled on the tombstone.

He gave a watery smile, full of unspoken grief. Though his words tread carefully, never faltering. Hi again. The words felt alien on his lips. As if he was being fool hardy to speak to the dead. To hope that they could hear him. But he shook it off, taking a deep breath as he continued.

It's been awhile since I last came . . . sorry about that. Things have been busy. He gave a somber chuckle, finding his throat unusually tight. But I suppose you would know all about that huh? Seeing that your dead and all . . .

He licked his lips, tasting the droplets of rain on them. Taking the time to bask in the melancholy sound of the rain hitting the ground as he though things out. I think, no. I know. Your probably disappointed in me . . . I don't blame you. I think you should be. After all, it was me who committed the crime right?

A deep, ragged breath. A quick calming of the nerves. But I wonder if you've actually forgiven me this time. You always have before. No matter what I did. You were always there scolding me . . . and then telling me that every thing would be all right . . . I can remember everything so well . . .  
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Let me go! Let me go, let me GO! Duo screamed, fighting against the sister who currently had the pair of scissors in hand. His small body writhing in the chair in his attempt to get free._

What's the problem in here? An old weathered voice asked from the door. His pastures clothing matching Duo's perfectly. Though it fit much better then the child's oversized one. Kind blue eyes sparking curiously at the situation. Father Maxwell.

Father! This child won't allow me to cut his hair! The nun rushed out, her pale cheeks flushed with the effort to control the obviously strong willed child. A lock of gold hair laying against her face, having sneaked out of her now wrinkled habit.

Duo gave an indigenous snort. Well yeah! I like it like this! It's bad enough you made me wear this strange clothes! You can't cut my hair too! He argued stubbornly, his arms crossed as he pouted. A scowl set firmly on his boyish features.

But it's all scraggly! Sister Helen protested, her hands now set on her hips. It needs a fresh cut.

He put his hands on his head, a feeble attempt to ward her off. I like it this way! He stated, his frown never leaving.

Father Maxwell sighed, rubbing his temples. Let it be Sister Helen. The boy is obviously rooted to his decision.

She frowned, but gave in. Fine. But were at least getting it out of the way. She insisted. Gently pushing Duo back into his seat, ignoring his suspicious look as she gathered up his hair. Taking a brush of the stand beside her she carefully brushed through the silky locks. Diligently taking out each knot that she found, and to her surprise, Duo sat completely still during the procedure. Neither fidgeting in anxiousness, or complaining. She smiled warmly at the unsuspecting boy, as she separated the hair into three categories. Weaving them in and out of each other into a simple, neat braid. All done. How's that? She asked, laying a soft hand on his shoulder.

Duo stood up, examining the braid with a keen interest. His eyes brightening as he smiled gleefully, shaking his head to swing the braid boyishly. Yeah! I like it! Now it won't be in the way when I steal things! He exclaimed happily.

Sister Helen and Father Maxwell shared a glance. Duo . . . he started. You don't have to steal any more. You're with us now.

Duo's smile faded, leaving instead a blinking boy, his finger up to his chin as he contemplated this new prospect. Oh yeah! Now I have to beg! He said innocently. Giving Sister Helen a curious look when she made a squeak of shock. Well isn't that how it works? The church asks money from the people.

Father Maxwell let out a bellowing laugh, the wrinkles by his eyes becoming more prominent. Laugh lines, is what he would later tell Duo. Quite right! Quite right!

Duo beamed. Smiling at Sister Helen, as if to tell the young nun. I told you so.' Little did he know, that the sister would become one of the most important people to him . . .  
  
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Duo! Oh Duo! Tell me you didn't! Sister Helen cried out through the halls, turning one of the many corners to keep up with the young boy._

T-they started it! He stuttered, keeping his back to her. Trying to control his emotions on the subject. They did start it, but he had once again finished it. Yet he was afraid. Afraid of her reaction, of what she would think, of what she would say.

Sister Helen's features softened, hearing the strain in his voice. He was just a boy, a fragile boy at that. No matter how tough he tried to make himself look. It was times like these that one could really see how easily troubled he could be. She swiftly kneeled in front of him, a comforting hand on each shoulder. Tell me what happened Duo.

Duo bit his lip, looking at his feet. He didn't dare look at her, not at someone so good hearted and tell her. She would have never done something like that. He knew she wouldn't, neither would Father Maxwell, because they were such good people. Because of that, he idly wondered what that made him. T-They said I smelled like sewer . . . He said weakly. Though in truth he felt an unknown weight lifted off his shoulders. Sister Helen always seemed to give off that effect, she always made things better.

Oh Duo! She exclaimed, pulling him into a soft embrace as she smoothed his hair down in a comforting motion. You see? I think you smell very nice. She whispered softly to him, giving him a gentle squeeze to confirm her words.

Though she never got an answer from the young boy. Just the soft, thankful look of a child who could finally love and be loved . . . a look she never saw.

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_You say there is no God? Sister Helen asked, her small frame silhouetted slightly by the light that came from the studies window from behind her. The sun's rays outlining it with a golden glow. Though her young features could easily be seen._

Duo nodded from his position on Father Maxwell's lap. Well yeah! If there really was a God, he should stop the war! He exclaimed innocently, as if it was perfectly logical.

Father Maxwell looked worriedly at his charge, a small frown on his grave face. Duo . . . God doesn't start wars, people do. People have to end what they start. He said with utmost seriousness.

Duo contemplated this for a moment. Twisting to look at the Father more clearly. Hmm . . . So it doesn't matter if there is a God or not?That's not true! Sister Helen cried shrilly. She herself surprised by the blunt statement. To think that such words could come from such a small boy . . .

Duo huffed. Well I think that the only God in this world is the God of Death! He stated proudly, completely at ease with his statement.

The Sister looked at him worriedly, bemused at the child's rationalization. Duo . . . you don't believe in God, but you believe in the God of Death?

Duo smiled brightly. His eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. Yeah! I've never seen miracle, but I've seen lots of dead people!

Sister Helen looked at him oddly, ignoring the booming laughs that Father Maxwell issued. You are quite an interesting child . . . She said with a shake of her head, but she too had a small smile gracing her features.

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Duo chewed the inside of his cheek, trying to control his shaking hands. Yes . . . he remembered everything well. Possibly too well . . . Though . . . it was nice . . . Remembering them. All the happy times they had together.

All the bad times . . .

That was the problem. Every time a memory came, the nightmare would come with it. A very particular nightmare he hated. The very nightmare that he could recall every detail. Not that it was hard . . . how could he not when it visited him every night?

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_ Blond hair unraveling from the confining habit, spilling onto the ground in waves of gold. The sun's rays glinting off the fine strands. It would have been the perfect picture . . . had it not been for the crimson blood running through the silky strands, or the filth that covered her clothes and face. But what scared him the most was the soft smile she gave upon seeing his boyish frame, a crimson stream running down from the corner of her mouth before making it's way to the ground. She looked so . . ._

Angelic.

But after all that time in the church. He had never been told of bleeding angels. Angels who had been broken and sad. The fact that he resented most of all . . . because it brought him to realize . . . this was not just a bad dream . . . this was his worst nightmare . . . because it was REAL.

Du-Duo . . . She called out, as much as her strained voice could allow. Her head tilting slightly, looking at him through her blurred vision. Don't worry us like that. . . . Father Maxwell never stopped worrying about you until the very end . . .

His eyes widened considerably, rushing to her side. I-I'll call a doctor right away!

Her smile never left, her eyes glazing over as if she saw something that he himself did not. The Federation Army has come. We can't... leave here...

Duo's lip trembled, fighting to keep his emotions at bay. Though he had no such luck. His guilt, his worry. They all shone through. Is- is it my fault? Because I stole a Mobile Suit from the Federation?!

Sister Helen didn't show any signs off hearing him, nor did she seem to be able to focus on him. And Duo couldn't help but notice that she was beginning to ramble . . . The Father was... a wonderful example... He preached peace to... everyone... till the end...

Duo gritted his teeth, feeling his frustration well up in his chest. He couldn't hold this in. He had to yell, scream, do anything. What do you mean, wonderful?! He was just stupid, wasn't he?! What did he accomplish by getting himself killed? It wasn't fair . . .

The corners of her mouth raised in a sweet smile, her bloodied hand slowly making it's way up to his cheek, where it rested comfortably. Her cold flesh contrasting greatly with the warmth that radiated off him. Duo . . . May God . . . bless you and . . . keep . . . you . . .

Her hand slipped away, lowering to the ground with an ethereal grace that he couldn't comprehend. Her eyes losing the soft glow that had signified the life that remained in her. Leaving the hollow eyes that only the dead could give . . . the smile still on her face.

He stared at her for a moment, eyes empty as he gazed at her, though the river of silent tears leaked through. The peace before the storm.

He screamed.

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Duo stood up shakily, his legs suddenly feeling weaker than before. The slight trembling making it more difficult for him to stay upright on the slippery cement.

He swallowed the lump in his throat with defiance. Wiping his eyes with his sleeve as he mumbled an incoherent excuse to as why he did.

I'll never forget you too you know . . . He choked out hoarsely. I- I wouldn't be here with out you . . . I'm sure of it. He looked at his feet, summoning the words he had needed to speak. I owe you my life . . . Hell . . . I owe you more than my life. He mumbled.

He looked up again, his eyes lingering over both of their names before giving a sad smile. Which is why you'll be seeing me more often. Now that the war is over I can make sure you always have fresh flowers and everything! He exclaimed, licking his bottom lip, his eyes once again traveling to the slick ground. I know how much you liked them . . .

He heard the abrupt honking of a horn to his right, and he twisted around to see the old black truck waiting at the entrance of the cemetery.

Hilde . . .

He looked back at the graves questionably, he never did tell them about Hilde . . .

He smiled softly, his posture straightening slowly as he looked down at them once more. Someday I'll tell you . . . I'll tell you everything . . . I promise.

With those final words he turned, his hands in his pockets as he walked towards the car. Not surprised to see Hilde waiting for him, umbrella in hand.

Duo! What are you doing out here!? Your going to catch a cold! She scolded, quickly bringing him under the shelter of her umbrella.

Duo smiled down at her, his heart lightening at the sound of her concern. It made him feel loved, just as it did all those years ago. He looked back at the graves, his smile never wavering. She reminded him of them . . . I was just . . . visiting some one . . . He said softly, turning to face her once again. Returning her questioning look with a warm smile. I'll tell you later. Let's go home. He promised, wrapping an arm around her waist as he led her back to the car. Leaving lone graves with red roses laying on them. Droplets of rain rolling off the velvety crimson petals, only to be brightened by the sudden light that shone through. The atmosphere changing as well. There was no sorrow laid here in this land of death . . . only peaceful contentment . . . and the promise that lay upon the dead's ears . . .

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_Two guards walked past the priest clad figure that sat in his cell. His head hidden by the black cap that he wore. Hey? Did you know, that he's a survivor from Maxwell Church? The first guard asked his companion. Not bothering to slow down as he turned the corner of the prison._

The other guard followed his lead. Not looking back to further examine the youth. Really? He must have made some deal with Death then, hm?

Yup. First GW fanfic! Actually . . . . come to think of it . . . it's the only one-shot I have written on my own too! I think it came out pretty decent. Any way. All the flashbacks are taken from Episode Zero from the Gundam Wing series. So don't complain if I didn't get the dialogue COMPLETELY right. I was going off of memory. That said and done. I don't own Gundam Wing. Though I DO own the dust on the shelf, on which I write Duo's name in Japanese whenever I can. ;) I know I'm a loser. So just make me feel special and review!   
(watch the arrow)  
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Now review!!


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